Pursuing Pain
by claire svu fan
Summary: Titled after the lyrics from which it was inspired. Something is happening to Sam, something no-one understands, especially Sam. Not yet complete. Expect cliff hangers and drama to ensue. If anything: S/J... as that is who I usually ship.
1. Chapter 1

I open my eyes to darkness, I can smell earth in the air, a cold breeze brushes over my bare shoulder. I roll over, blinking in the dark trying to make out the stars. My head throbs, forcing my eyes closed. I bring my hand to my temple, as though touching it would dull the ache. My fingers feel moist, I pull them away barely making out a glistening on my finger tips. I touch my fingers to my lips instinctively, the liquid is familiarly metallic, a taste I know too well as my own blood. Groaning, I try to lift myself, the throbing grows worse but I push through it, lifting to a sitting position, my dressing gown falls from my shoulders to my elbows...

"Dressing gown" I breath the whispered concern as my eyes fall to the plush blue gown Mathew sent me for christmas.

I pull the gown around me tightly, blinking feverishly, trying to clear my vision in the dark. Around me I can make out a dull glow of light coming from my right where the breeze is coming from. I strain my eyes, pressing my hands to the floor beneath me. As my fingers touch the smooth cold surface I realise I've been laying on polished floor boards. Suddenly the glow seems familiar as my sleep fogged mind starts to clear. I press my hand to the wall beside me, fubling for the light switch I know to be close. As my fingers find the switch I sheild my eyes expecting the light to be harsh.

I open them tentively looking around at my kitchen.

As I had woken to darkness and the throbing I know too well to be a head injury, I'd assumed I was off world; but as I look around the familiar room, I'm not quite sure I know where I stand. The room is relatively tidy with the glaring exception of a small pool of blood where my head just lay and a coffee mug in the middle of the corridor, shattered on the floor, drying spilt coffee amongst the reminants. The front door at the end of the corridor is wide open, leting the winter chill in.

My military side kicks into gear and I push my concerns aside for a moment, stumbling forward grogily and rounding the kitchen island to pull a large knife from the top draw. Not the best weapon but will do until I get to my spare gun in the office at the end of the corridor. I round the other side of the island, my back against the fridge, stepping cautiously towards the corridor. I scan the lounge room through the archway across from me, the room is clear so I press on, switching on the hallway light as I do. I slow my pace as I reach the front door, the patio is clear as is the street, vacant at what must be a very early hour.

I pull the door shut locking the dead bolt and turn my attention to the office across from me, the door is closed, I pull the sliding door open very carefully, holding the blade in front of me as I check inside. The room is empty.

I let out a sigh of relief switching on the light. Quickly I dispose of the kitchen knife in one of the desk draws, replacing it with my spare hand gun. I draw the gun, flick off the safety and continue my search. With my gun at the ready, I check the basement, bedroom and ensuite; all clear. My fears are, for the moment, laid to rest.

Alone in my house, standing in front of the bathroom mirror with my gun at my side, I allow myself a moment to assess the situation. My eyes meet my reflection.

My pale cheeks are marred with bloodied fingerprints, a steady trickle of blood still flows saturating my blonde hair, tracing along my jaw, down my neck and ending somewhere beneath the dressing gown. I feel around the wound and find a shallow gash about an inch long, the flesh stings as my fingers make contact and my throbing migraine makes its presence known again. I close my eyes to the pain, trying to think back, trying to remember how the injury occured.

Flashes of the day before come to mind; I remember a debriefing, the uninteresting mission to an abandoned planet we had just come back from being finalised. I remember Daniel rambling about the civilisation dying out by their own hand. I remember finishing a report on insignificant mineral traces. I remember signing off base. I don't recall the drive home but I recall making a sandwich and running a bath.

That's all, the bath. I don't recall anything after climbing into the bath. I vaguely remember being tired as I climbed in but nothing more.

I place the gun on the bathroom counter, frustrated.

'Could I have slipped?' I wonder, an image coming to mind of me, climbing the stairs towards the bedroom with a late night coffee in hand, losing my footing and falling to the floor. It is plausable, the drop alone could account for the severity of the head wound, a fall would account for the mug being strewn across the floor and shattered. The door however, why would I leave the door open? I could have done it absentmindedly as I came home. I don't remember coming through it. I only remember leaving the base, and the sandwich. I remember making a sandwich.

I shake my head at my confusion, being again reminded of the severity of my little bump when my head throbs in agitation. I look up at my reflection again and decide on a shower, I would call Janet later, but first I needed to wash some of this blood off.

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As I sign my name on the dotted line of another chart, signing off on a doseage change; I look up at the injured airman before me, sleeping soundly with his plastered right leg strung high up above him. I sigh, tucking the mans chart into the slip at the foot of the bed, for the nurse to check when she comes back off break. I glance at my watch, grimacing at the early hour. The sun will be rising soon, and Cassie will be wondering why I've not come home.

I turn to head to my office, my thoughts on the time, wondering if it is too early to ring home; in the corner of my eye, I spot a dear friend leaning against the wall just outside of the infirmary entrance. She looks pale, her eyes are glazed over with thought and her eye lids are droopy with fatigue.

"Sam" I sigh, exasperated "You should have been in bed hours ago" a smile plays on my lips as I walk towards her but I pause as I note she hasn't responded. I stop in my tracks and take in her appearance. Her hair is damp, she isn't wearing any makeup and her clothes are newly unfolded, deep crease lines tracing her form.

"Are you okay?" I ask, careful not to sound too concerned. Her eyes flicker up to mine, coming back from some distant thought. She smiles, pushing off the wall gingerly and stepping towards me.

"Uh yeah" she mutters seeming distracted. I cross my arms across my chest, waiting for her to fill me in. She doesn't seem to catch on so I help her along.

"What can I do for you then?"

She looks at me, her smile dropping, her hand reaches up to her right temple as if to rub away a tension headache but she seems to change her mind about touching it. Her eyes drop away once more before she finally speaks, her eyes on the floor.

"I tripped" she laughs, embarissed, bringing her eyes back up to mine "bumped my head" gesturing to the temple "Can you have a look at it?" she asks her face brightening with the question. I smile, uncertain with her out of character behaviour, but nod and direct her to come sit on a cot. She does and I pull out a pen light, brushing her hair out of the way and shining the light on the freshly cleaned wound. It is worse than I expected from her meager description and I let out an involuntary hiss at the sight.

"Ouch" I joke, hoping to calm her obvious nerves "You tripped?" I question critically

"Down the stairs" she offers with another embarissed laugh, but I sense she isn't comfortable with the answer. I give her a stern look expecting a better explanation and wait. She bites her lip and rolls her eyes at my insistance.

"It bled alot" she moves on, choosing not to carry on, I am momentarily annoiyed but greatful for the information

"Head wounds usually bleed the most" I remark, checking the width of the split wondering if I should bother her with a plaster, the bleeding has obviously stopped "it is said to be a self defense mechanism... the bleeding, insights the flight response." I add, expecting her to question as to why but her focus is elsewhere, confusion set in her furrowed brow.

"Something the matter?" I ask pulling my hands away from the wound, she looks up, shaking off the thought and smiles.

"Its nothing" she assures me, her eyes falling nerviously to her hands "I'm just trying to think how I could have tripped"

"You don't know?" I question, crossing my arms across my chest

"I don't remember all the details" she finishes and I sigh deeply, chewing my lip in thought

"Well, memory loss is a hallmark of concusion." I offer as explanation "especially of events immediately before or after the injury."

"I don't feel concussed" she continues, pushing up off the cot. I exhale slowly and gesture back at the cot.

"It's not uncommon to only experience some symptoms associated with concusion, but I assure you, the blow that caused that split was enough to rattle the brain"

She draws in a deep breath and sits back down, she doesn't need stitches so I move on, my ever ready pen light hurts her eyes as I check her pupil dilation response, they're a little slower to respond than optimum, but only mildly. I let out that disaproving motherly grummble all good doctors make when they know their patients well, and care deeply for their wellbeing. I check her pulse and blood pressure, it's lower than usual but not conscerning. I check her temperature and by this point even she knows I'm buying time to make up my mind.

"You want me to rest here, don't you" she speaks as if reading my mind.

"To stay here, yes; but you do not have to sleep" she seems puzzled by this "I just want to keep an eye on you. You're welcome to work from the bed, or just relax, but I don't want you walking around until we know more about the severity of the concussion." I explain and for a moment she looks as though she's going to fight me on it, but seems to agree, nodding softly "I'll have an airman bring down your laptop." I finish and then leave her side to produce a fresh chart for the nurse due back any minute.

When I return with the chart in hand, busily filling in details, I look up and smile, she has fallen asleep already. I shake my head and leave a notation on the chart for the nurse to wake her every 2-3hrs.

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The night shift guy has burnt the coffee, the commisary stinks of the ruined beans as I wander in. I'm in here far earlier than I would like but an early morning call from an inaudable babbling Daniel and a serious lack of food in the fridge would drive a man to do extraordinary things.

Towards the back I notice Daniel, siting infront of a tablet PC and what is probably his sixth or seventh cup by now, despite the taste. Daniel would drink it cold if he had to, simply to sate the craving.

I pull up a chair in front of him, studying his features closely, taking in the tired circles around his eyes, he has no doubt been up all night, he is probably only here to clear his head before he gets back to the books.

"This better be good" I break his train of thought as abruptly as I can muster, yanking the gadgit from his fingertips and spinning it around to glance at it. He glares at me deeply but is greatful for my company as his face brightens at the chance to resume his excitement about something.

"There was a murder last night" he smiles as if this is something to get worked up about. I strain my eyes at the tiny writing on the screen, passing it back as if it were written in ancient.

"This is America, people get murdered everyday" I raise my eyebrow at him and his smile grows wider.

"Here in colorado springs, and it was no gang shooting or robbery tustle." His eyes look like they're going to pop out with excitement.

"Your point" I roll my hand for dramatic effect, but it seems lost on him as he returns his attention to the screen and does something to it. He looks back up at me and passes the tiny computer back, I yawn feigning disinterest but take it.

The picture before me is of pixelated security footage, the scene is obviously of someone lying dead in the middle of an intersection, rain thundering down around them, but closer to the camera, just visible is the killer himself, or itself to be more accurate. The tall thin creature standing with it's back to the camera, on two legs as a man would, seems blueish in colour with long dripping claws.

I bring my eyes back up to Daniel who is sitting back in his chair looking smug.

"Hammonds already ordered us to check it out" he says behind a sip of his coffee, "Teal'c is getting ready to go, we're just waiting for Sam"

At this I look to him with a very furrowed brow and Daniel leans forward studying my reaction in that annoiying way Daniel does when he's stuck his nose where he shouldn't.

"She's in the infirmary" Daniel clarifys, "Janet's keeping an eye on her while she sleeps off..." he pauses, seemingly to think of appropriate phrasing "...a minor household injury."

I draw in an involantary yawn and use it to mask my immediate concern for my second in command. I'm sure someone would have notified me if there was anything to be concerned with, but any bad news about Carter was always concerning. Never the less, I should see for myself. At this I push from my chair, intent on finding said Major.

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As I am shaken awake, I open my eyes begrudgingly, expecting to see the nervous girl in nurses clothing from last check in but instead I am met with the cheshire grin of the Colonel.

"Take a little tumble did we" he mocks my pain, steping back as I slowly sit up, my stubborn headache protesting along the way.

"Good morning Sir" I manage, blinking away my sleep addled confusion. The room spins with the new angle but I try my best not to show it, as much as I love Janets company, the infirmary cots have nothing in comfort on my own bed.

"You feel up to a mission, major?" he asks me the question but he's already looking through my chart for the answer.

"It's just a headache sir" I assure him "What's the Planet?"

"Earth" he quips before I've finished the question, I look to him questionly but he just smirks at me. "Daniel will explain on the way."

He watches me as I stand up, I'm gentle on my feet as I ease out of bed, I am reminded of the scratches on my hip I discovered in the shower, the area is tender and I'm not ready to speculate on how I came to recieve them. He seems to put it to the headache and shrugs it off, waiting for me to follow. I force myself to keep pace as we walk the base corridors but my mind is on this early mornings shower, the bruises and scratches I had discovered, evidence of something far worse than a fall.

I try not to think about it because my frightened mind can only come up with one logical explanation, and that thought is too horrifying to imagine. The door, the dressing gown, the scratches, the bruises... these signs all point to an intruder entering my home and taking me by surprise. I can't bring myself to stomach that explanation, so instead I choose to ignore it until I can remember more.

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We gain entry to the intersection crime scene easily. There is a small crime scene unit processing the area and the body is still at the scene when we arrive. The roads leading to the intersection are being diverted by local police and an agent with clearance greats us warmly as we are waved in.

He takes us to the body immediately, the rain having washed away any other evidence. I kneel down closer to the body as the body bag is unzipped. Jack makes some quip that I ignore, Sam swallows back what I assume is nausea and Teal'c says nothing, instead turning his attention to the neighbourhood, no doubt putting himself in the killers shoes, working out how the crime played out.

The man in the bag is young, clean shaven, wearing jeans, runners and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt has been torn in several places across the torso and fore arms in long jaggared lines. The tearing extends through the white t-shirt underneath and well into the abdomin. To the untrained eye, it would look like the man had been mauled by a local animal.

"We need to cease the security footage" Jack speaks behind me "Run an animal attack cover to the press" the agent smiles.

"Already on it" he seems chuffed with himself and receives a sharp look in response.

"The wounds are too evenly spread for an animal" Sam speaks, kneeling at my side, pushing a rock aside as she does "the gashes are too thin" she whispers placing her hand beneath one of the sets of incisions to demonstrate.

"I was thinking the same thing" I speak "the footage showed a figure that resembled a man" she looks at me as though it is the first time she's heard this. I can only assume she wasn't paying attention when I filled her in on the drive here. I would have commented but am stopped as she picks up the victims hand, her eyes are fixed on the fingertips.

"Is that skin?" I ask, pulling her attention away from the victims hand. The Agent hands her a pair of tweezers and an evidence bag. She carefully pulls the skin out from under the mans left hand pointer nail.

"It looks human" she mutters and I tend to agree.

"Shouldn't it be blue?" Jack chimes in from behind drawing all our attention to this fact. Often I wonder if we are under rating Jacks intelligence because he's right more often than we give him credit for.

"Is it possible the creatures epidermis is comprised of many translucent layers, creating a hue consistant with the colour blue." Teal'c blows us out of the water seeming to have returned from surveiling the area. The Agent appears to jump, startled at his sudden presence.

"Its a possibilty" Sam smiles at him but my gut doesn't sit right with that theory. I shake it off, it is too early to speculate.

"We should see the footage" I announce.

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Daniel offers his chair when we get back to base, I have half a mind to fight him but my throbing head conceeds. I sit down gingerly, feeling their eyes burn into me. I slot the casette tape into Daniels VCR and wait for the security footage to roll.

A cross-way intersection appears on the screen, the streets leading up to the lights are empty. The nearest building is just out of the cameras veiw. I note the time code: 12:32am. Suddenly we see but do not hear the young man, he appears from the right of the screen, he's running very fast. We can't see his face as he runs towards the far left of the screen away from the camera. From the right of the screen, a figure chases, they are on foot, naked. It is the creature.

The creature is tall approximately 6 foot, thin roughly 110lbs and is blue head to toe bar the hair on its head which appears light in colour, though it is hard to tell as it is saturated and slick to the skull. The creature leaps forward pouncing on the man, tackling him to the ground. It is only now that the claws become apparent, the creature lifts its right hand high behind it, and for a moment I swear I see... no it couldn't be.

"Pause that." Daniel speaks and I do. "Rewind until just before the nails..." Daniel hesitates

"Grow" Colonel O'Neill finishes for him.

"Yeah" Daniel mutters and I rewind, pauseing again just before the moment the hand raises. I track forward and I see it again, it's hard to see as the footage is so pixelated but I swear the creature... has french tips.

"Does that look like a woman to anyone else?" Jack mouths what we're all thinking. I play the footage, the nails extend from the feminine hand into long sharp claws. In only a few seconds, the creatures claws decend on its victim, ripping into his flesh, spraying blood across the street. The man fights it, his hands flailing up defensively, punching and scratching, causing the creature to cut deep defensive wounds in his forearms.

I swallow back a wave of nausea at the horrific sight. Just as we think he is dead, I go to pause the footage but Teal'c grabs my arm.

"The boy still lives" Teal'c speaks and I realise the mans fingers are fumbling beside him, grasping at a rock, he grasps the rock in his hand and with miraculous force he throws himself forward, smacking the rock into the right side of the creatures head. The creature seems to let out a scream and stumbles back away from the man.

The man drops the rock and collapses onto his back. Our eyes however are not on the man, but on the creature as it stumbles backwards. The claws retract and it reaches up to its wound with both hands, blood spilling quickly, for a moment it appears human, its colour flickering to a pale creamy white but only for a moment before the creature runs towards the left of the screen.

"Argh!" Colonel O'Neill suddenly exclaims and we all turn towards him "It didn't show its face" he explains and I reach forward pausing the footage.

"All is not at a loss O'Neill" Teal'c speaks up. I only hear them distantly, my mind still on the footage, still on the man fighting that... thing.

"How so?" Jack spits out angrily

"We now know the creature is a female of its species" Teal'c clarifys. My mind is on the man clawing defensively against it, his fingers scratching into the creature. I touch my tender hip, suddenly very confused. It couldn't be possible.

"Further more" Daniel speaks up, joining their discussion. My thoughts are on the image of the rock smacking into the creatures head, on the right side. I touch my head gingerly. Its not possible! it can not be possible.

"We now know why the skin from under the victims nails wasn't blue" Daniel continues and Jack gives him a very quisical look. The room starts to spin again and I have to get some air.

"The creatures true form is human" Daniel finishes

"What!" Jack exclaims, "I don't know what you were all watching there Danny boy, but I sure didn't see anything human."

"Jack!" Daniel protests, I stand up using the chair to steady myself, I desperately need air.

"Are you okay Major Carter?" Teal'c stands taking my arm to help steady me. I look to him with as best a smile as I can muster, the boys go quiet.

"Yeah, I just need to get some air" I nod, touching his hand reassuringly

"The footage was not an easy sight to stomach" Teal'c nods letting my arm go and I would protest, defending myself against any judgement that I couldn't take anything the boys could, but I really need to get out of this room and clear my head.

"Go home Carter" Colonel O'Neill orders, "you need to rest"

I look at him, startled by his order, but I follow it; about this, I'm not going to argue.

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AN: I am out of practice, my new laptop does not have MS Word yet and as consequence I do not have spell check yet. I do not and never have had a Beta reader, though I should invest in one :D.

I apologise to anyone who is familiar with my writing and is waiting for an update on other stories... most likely Betrayal.

But please, take this as a sign, that my muse has once again returned.

However, do not be deluded into thinking that my updates will be prompt... they never have been... I am truely hopeless.

So please put this on your alert list... as you will probably forget the fic by the time I update it...

or I might update in a day or so... or even an hour... you never know.

Enjoy, either way.


	2. Chapter 2

I sigh heavily as Janet pulls up beside the curb of my nature strip, it's early, the afternoon sun is still quite high in the sky but it feels more like 3am, my tired lids weighing down as though I'd just pulled an all nighter. Janet smiles, glancing at her watch for a fraction of a moment before meeting my eyes. I consider inviting her in, yawning deeply I decide against it, thanking her for the lift, I climb out.

Janet looks as though she is going to insist upon something, battling internally; she exhales slowly and then smiles.

"Night Sam" she says softly nodding her goodbye and turns her attention to the road. I wave, opening my gate as she pulls out; I look up at my front door once she is out of view, closing the gate behind me.

As I climb the few stone steps to my porch, gingerly rubbing my temple, my eyes on my feet, taking care to watch my step; I notice a brown smear across the top step. I lean down touching the stain with my fingertips. For a moment I see blood on my fingers, the image flashes for a moment; I pull my hand back startled by the thought. I feel my pulse quickening and press on, pulling my keys from my pocket feverishly.

I slide the key into the lock and open the door, as I step inside, my mind is overridden with flashing imagery. I see myself, naked, running through the open doorway, stumbling as I cross the threshold, blood smeared fingers marring the skirting board. I shake my head of the vision and stare down at the skirting board, brown blood stain now clear to see in the light of day. Trembling, I touch my fingers to my lips, my breath is hot, my fingers cold. I slowly walk forward studying the room for clues missed; trying to remember.

My eyes fall to the floor where the shattered mug had laid, an image flashes before me of the coffee filled mug from the night before, clasped in my hands, half empty. I remember a shooting pain running up my back, I remember hurtling the mug to the floor as the pain travelled along my arm violently, convulsing as though electricity were coursing through my veins.

I gasp as I come back from the memory, the pain fading from my mind; I stumble forward, into the kitchen, needing to steady myself as the distant sensation rolls out of me.

I feel naked, standing alone in my kitchen. My eyes burn and my throat feels raw. A hot empty feeling emanates through my chest as I grasp the island, hold myself upright, holding myself together as the emotion pours out of me. I feel a scream climbing up my oesophagus and I slide down the cupboards, balling on the floor, trying desperately not to shed a tear.

My breath comes in gasps, my head throbs with every beat of my racing heart.

I don't understand why this hurts so much, why now. The realisation, that what I couldn't remember happening, had really happened. The details are still lost in my muddled faded memory but the evidence burns clear in every thought. Something unmentionable happened to me, something unthinkable. But that was the problem wasn't it.

I find myself laughing hysterically as the threatening tears make their warm salty way down my cheeks. I wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt, I look down at the wet cotton sleeve, I see the dressing gown in its place, I see my hand, fingers splayed after hurtling the mug, I see my veins in my wrist pulsing dark blue veins, creamy skin paling, growing translucent, I can see my veins clearly amongst red muscle and then as though poisoned, darkening, turning blue. I try to shake myself from the vision, turning away from my arm, my headache pulses angrily and I see myself pulling my dressing gown off, watching the cloud of blue travel over my skin, I can feel panic bubbling up inside me, I see myself backing up against a wall as the colour envelopes me, standing naked, my back pressed firmly against the corridor wall. I feel a grave hunger burning inside me, my eyes look to the front door, I close my eyes and find myself running towards it.

Distressed, I pull back from the memory invading my thoughts, gasping as the image leaves my mind, I try to hang on to it, try to remember more but as though the thought were only a fragment of footage, there is no more. I close my eyes, blinking hastily, shaking my head. My head throbs, pain pulsing at the sight of my wound. Truly shaken to the core, I reach up grasping the island counter top. I pull myself to my feet; a wave of nausea overwhelms me. I rush up the stairwell, round into the bedroom and collapse at the foot of my ensuite toilet, spilling my meagre stomach contents into the porcelain bowl violently.

* * *

><p>It's early when I step into Daniels office, hoping to find Sam with him, discussing some detail of the strange murder that they've been ordered to look into. Instead, I find him alone; head down on the desk, fast asleep.<p>

I slowly approach my friends' side, and gently pat his shoulder, rousing him. He lifts his head groggily wiping moisture from his lips. He blinks up at me and fumbles around the table for his glasses. Finding them, he slips them on and smiles up at me.

"Oh, good morning Doctor" he clears his throat, looking around the room and then to his watch, hissing at what I can only assume must have been time he hadn't wanted to lose. "Has Sam come in yet?" he asks, absentmindedly.

"I'm not sure; I was looking for her myself." I offer, wondering if I should be concerned that she hasn't called in yet.

"Okay" he nods, yawning for a long moment before looking to me expectantly.

"This was faxed through to us" I make my reasoning for waking him known, flopping the preliminary test results in front of him. "The autopsy's finished. The boys' toxicology test hasn't come back yet but some of the blood work has; blood group profile only." I explain, turning the paperwork over to a highlighted page "They recovered enough blood cells from his nails to run a comparison; the blood under his nails isn't his."

"Can they get a DNA profile?" Daniel seems to perk up, taking the report out of my hands excitedly.

"I would assume so, but you're not going to like what the ME concluded from his initial assessment of the skin" I warn him, tapping gently on the page in question. He picks up the hand written notation and a smile spreads across his face.

"It's human" he grins making me frown. I thought he wanted to work this case.

"But..." I begin and he shakes his head.

"I was right, Janet" he explains "the creature's true form _is_ human"

* * *

><p>Distantly, I hear a phone ringing. At first I ignore it, my sleep addled brain thinking it a dream. Then as it rings on, the familiar tone coaxing me from my dreams, I roll out of the comfort of my rest to pick the cell phone up off of the dresser, intent on dismissing the alarm. I pause however when through my blurred vision, I see a green receiver symbol on the screen instead of a red alarm clock.<p>

"Carter" I croak into the line rubbing my eyes, flopping my head back against the pillow.

"Carter, it's me" Colonel O'Neill replies; I pull up to a sitting position at this.

"Sir?" I question, glancing at my watch on the dresser.

"Did I wake you?" His voice sounds hesitant. I pick up the watch and grimace at the late hour.

"Uh..." I hesitate, throwing the sheets aside and climbing out of bed in search of clothes, thoughts of lateness racing through my mind.

"You didn't call in" he questions me; I swear I can hear an echo in the line.

"Yes sir, sorry sir." I manage, my hands fumbling through my draw for a decent bra "I must have slept through my alarm" I tell him as I pull my nightgown over my head, carefully balancing the cell phone on my shoulder. I pick up a sport bra and pull it on, losing balance, the phone drops to the floor and I curse loudly, too loudly.

"Carter?" he calls through the phone, but I swear I heard that elsewhere as well.

"Sir?" I question as I pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear as I walk towards my bedroom door, opening it to look down the stairs. "Are you here?" I ask, crouching down to see the front door at the end of the corridor, but the corridor is too long.

"I am" he muses chuckling softly at my question "Can I come in?"

I freeze, looking down at my state of undress.

"Yes sir, just..." I pause, checking behind the door for my dressing gown "give me a second to get dressed" I finish, realising I had put the gown in a bucket to soak. I hang up and quickly grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I pull the jeans on as I make my way down the stairs and slip the shirt on as I hurry down the corridor.

"Sorry sir" I open the door wide, gesturing for him to come in. He looks up to my eyes with a smirk and then down at the white t-shirt and jeans until finally, my bare feet.

"Afternoon Carter" his grin grows wider "Sleep well?" he asks, pushing past me and into the kitchen before stepping down into the living area.

"Yes sir" I close the door and tuck my shirt in, while his back is turned, I hold back a hiss at the still tender flesh. "Can I get you anything?" I offer, turning into the kitchen and taking a bottle of water out of the fridge for the kettle "Coffee?"

"Sure" he nods looking around the room, I rarely use. He seems to decide against sitting down and walks into the kitchen, pressing his splayed hands against the island countertop and leaning into them. I make myself busy with the mugs and kettle. My stomach growls loudly, as the smell of fresh coffee invades my nostrils. He hears the angry rumble and a smirk again plays on his lips.

"Hungry?" he jokes and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I smile embarrassed and grab the bread to make myself some toast. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure when I last ate... The sandwich; I remember making the sandwich. Did I eat it? Haven't I had anything since then?

"Did I miss anything?" I ask him, my eyes on the kettle, watching as it boils.

"Uh yeah, Daniel seems to think the skin you found is human, Frasier agrees." He clears his throat; I can feel his eyes burning into me, following my every movement. "We're checking hospitals and medical centres in the area to see if anyone matching the killers' description checked in."

"Any luck?" I ask, closing my eyes to the lunacy of my situation. I should tell him what I know, it's my duty and if anything I could be putting innocent people in harms way, keeping this from them.

"None yet" he sighs, frustrated by the situation

"You don't think we'll find them this way?" I ask, finally turning around to look at him.

"I think it's a long shot" he nods. I can't bring myself to do it, the words sit eagerly in my throat, but I can't build up enough courage to admit what I fear I may have done. What I have done.

There's no denying it, what I remembered last night is too damning for me to kid myself. That creature was me; I might not remember doing it, but the evidence...

"Are you okay Carter?" he pulls me back from my thoughts; I can smell fresh toast as it pops but it makes my stomach turn queasily. I'm starving, but I know if I swallow anything now, it'll come straight back up. I grab my angry stomach as it rumbles loudly. "Carter?" he asks concern evident in his tone.

"I'm fine," I lie swallowing back a wave of nausea "just a little queasy"

His brow furrows with disappointment, he's watching me, studying me carefully. I can see almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he ponders something. I fear he's going to put the pieces together. It's only a matter of time before he knows, before they all know.

I murdered that boy.

I don't know how, I don't know why, that's something I need to find out. Something has happened to me, something has changed. The last mission, it had to have been off world, there's no other explanation.

"Can you take me to the base?" I ask, hoping the request didn't sound too eager. He's looking at me strangely, thinking the question over; he shrugs his shoulders, shaking himself from whatever the thought was and nods, pulling his car keys from his pocket without question.

* * *

><p>Steering carefully through the busy corridors of the SGC is not the easiest task at the best of times, let alone while carrying a tray loaded up with my lunch, so I am surprised when I step into my office with my everything in place on the tray, I am further surprised when I see Sam sitting in the chair across from mine, in front of my desk, waiting patiently for me to return.<p>

When she hadn't called in today, I'd reported it to Colonel O'Neill, I wasn't sure what to expect; but I hadn't expected her to be in my office so soon. I had half expected him to call in for assistance, it seems normal to me now to be called to the most extreme of circumstances, especially when it relates to SG1. Seeing her now, I can tell she is not entirely herself; she looks tired despite the time away from base. She is rubbing her knuckles distractedly; something is weighing heavily on her mind.

"Sam?" I ask as I place my tray on my desk and ease into the chair behind it. I close the file I had left open on my desk and look up, waiting for her to respond. She smiles, exhaling heavily and then bites her lip hesitantly. "Something the matter?" I ask choosing not to question her on not calling in.

"I need you to clear me to work" she finally speaks, giving me a quick half hearted smile and then looking down at her hands. I pause thinking it over for a moment, pulling my penlight from my pocket and walk over to her side, leaning against my desk with the penlight in hand.

"How do you feel?" I ask brushing her hair out of the way to look at the wound on her head. It's clean, devoid of blood but it doesn't look like much has happened in the way of healing. I contemplate this as I wait for her to respond.

"Better" she finally speaks, her response reeks of half truth, I do my best to give her an incredulous warning look. She chuckles softly and rolls her eyes at me "a little queasy, and tired." She admits.

"Did you sleep?" I ask leaning forward to check her pupils, she nods widening her eyes for me, I shine the light and move it away, checking both eyes. The response is normal. I press my fingers to her pulse, its racing faster than I would have expected, I pull back frowning and she smiles knowingly.

"I'm a little anxious" she admits and I purse my lips feeling uncertain about the whole thing. Something in my gut doesn't sit right, but I have no medical reason to justify my concern. I wheel the blood pressure machine over and watch as she visibly tenses.

"Janet..." she starts looking as though she's going to jump out of the chair.

"I just want to be sure" I assure her, setting up for the reading. I check her blood pressure and frown at the low numbers, surprised by the reading.

"See I'm fine" she smiles as though she's won something.

"Have you had anything to eat?" I ask and her face falls, I smile knowingly and pull at the Velcro, pushing the machine aside. "As I thought" I start, rounding my desk and sitting down across from her. "I don't see why you can't get back to work, but you need to eat." she shifts uncomfortably in her chair but nods "get some lunch, go easy on yourself and come see me in a couple hours, then we'll talk about clearing you for active duty" she sighs as she stands from her chair, she turns towards the door, hesitating before she goes.

"Thanks Janet" she smiles back at me and then walks out.

* * *

><p>I ease painfully onto the stool across from Carter, watching her as she looks into a microscope, turning away from the slide only to take notes. I wait impatiently for her to look away from her work and notice me. She seems driven, overworked. I lean forward, peering at the report on her table. I recognise the report from the debriefing, mineral traces she found on the planet.<p>

"I thought the levels weren't significant" I speak, alerting her to my presence. She looks up from the microscope, I catch her eyes, she smiles; she looks back into the microscope.

"I'm just being thorough" she tells me, turning back to her notepad to make a notation, places her pen down and looks up at me, there is nothing to her eyes, she looks tired and run down, dark circles and pale skin do not become her. I worry about her, we all do.

"You're not overdoing it?" I ask my face blank, stoic.

Her eyes connect with mine, for a long moment we say nothing, silently she's pleading with me. She exhales slowly, leaning back from the desk, looking away from my eyes, towards the floor.

"I'm fine" she whispers, eyes set on a spot on the ground, sadness embodies her. I ache, seeing her like this. I want to say something, give her some kind of pep talk... but I'm not so great at pep.

"Carter, you know if you need to talk..." I offer, knowing she won't bite. She almost laughs looking back up at me with a sad sort of reassuring smile.

"Thanks" she shakes her head "I'm okay"

She turns her attention back to the microscope dismissively and I take the hint.

* * *

><p>Deflated from a long day riding backseat in a murder investigation with no new leads showing up despite our efforts questioning triage staff and health care practitioners alike, I slowly drop my things on my desk, disturbing Teal'c from the security footage he had been studying.<p>

He looks up from the footage raising an eyebrow and slowly lifting the headphones.

"Did your search not produce results?" He asks placing the headphones on the desk.

"Uh," I pause drawing in a deep breath "no, not really" I exhale, truly frustrated. I look Teal'c over, he seems disturbed. He's stoic and receptive, listening intently but I know Teal'c well enough to know when something is bothering him. "What's up?" I ask gesturing with a nod towards the monitor. He pauses reflectively and stands bringing his hands behind his back.

"I was unsettled with the surveillance cameras' recording, something about the figure in the footage felt..." he draws in a deep breath "...familiar".

I swallow hard, wondering what he could mean, he gestures to the footage and I round the desk to see the screen. I look at the moment frozen on screen, the image is of the killer backed away from the victim, the creature is holding its head, and it is not blue but instead has pale, creamy, white skin with slick blonde hair.

"What am I looking at?" I ask, unsure what Teal'c is getting at, he leans forward, dragging the mouse down to the task bar and opens up another window, on screen the base security feed plays, the room on screen is Sam's Lab. I frown turning back to Teal'c questioningly.

"It occurred to me that the killers size, stature and physical characteristics were consistent with Major Carter" He states ominously, I look back at the security footage realising that it is not live, but is looping 15seconds of feed where Sam, looks up from a microscope, drops her pen and stands holding her head where she hit it the night before last.

"Her injury" I gasp, wondering how I could have missed this connection

"It is an unlikely coincidence." His words resinate deeply as I turn back to him

"How?" I ask as my thoughts race at the possibility

"I do not know" Teal'c states, answering the question I hadn't meant for him to answer

"Why didn't she say anything?" I ask rhetorically, watching the scene on the screen replay.

"I do not believe she would keep this information from us if she knew she was responsible" Teal'c assures me and I nod looking up at him.

"You don't think she remembers" I state and Teal'c nods in agreement.

"I cannot be certain, but I think it would be unreasonable to rule her out as a suspect" Teal'c states and then brings the original footage from the crime scene back up "There is a way, however, to be certain" he points out touching the screen at the site of her blood marred hip.

I nod, agreeing; "we should speak with Jack first."

* * *

><p>AN: more to come...<p>

Sorry it's late, expect this to be the norm with my posts. Expect to be surprised if the next chapter comes in an at all timely fashion.


	3. Chapter 3

My eyes burn red and soulless, my reflection is not my own. A thudding ache rackets my brain, forcing my eyes closed. I brace myself against the basin before me. I fumble in my pocket for the ibuprofen Janet gave me the night before. The plastic bottle rattles in my shaking hand as I tip my head back and swallow two. This meagre relief hasn't been cutting it for very long; the deafening booming of my racing heart seems to ease off a little. I open my eyes and stare back at the foreign creature before me. Blood red rims jet black pupils; the black encompassing the entirety of my irises. My pale skin growing lighter still, my veins becoming more pronounced, tiny red spider veins cover my face, darkening a deep navy. I close my eyes and splash water over my changing face. The cold water feels hot against my icy skin.

Just as the eerily familiar sensation of electricity begins to dance under my skin, I hear a different kind of thudding altogether.

My eyes fly to the women's restroom door that I had locked a few moments ago.

"Carter" A voice calls from behind it. I look back to the mirror before me, I am almost entirely transformed into that creature inside me; obviously blue skin contrasting against dark red tinged eyes. I hear a voice echo in my head that is not my own, whispering words I don't understand. The words seem so foreign, they're inhuman; alien. The whispering is rhythmic and raspy almost like music beating in tune with my racing heart.

Another loud bang and I am pulled from the whispering voice, by the sound of an access card swiping; unlocking the door. I spin around, startled to see Colonel O'Neill standing before me. His features are frozen, he looks as though he came in with a smart quip on his tongue but is now lost for words.

Another moment and his hands on his calf, pulling the gun he is never without. My mind is frozen, I am without thought.

My body is not, in the moment he is down by his calf, pulling his weapon, my body launches, out of my control. I feel myself lean the full weight of my body into the basin and then push back with such strength and force that I am thrown up from the floor and across the room. I look around and see that I have collided with the shower stalls and latched on, pulling myself into a perched position above them.

"Carter?" Colonel O'Neill stares in disbelief, his weapon raised, ready to fire. My mind is frantic, thoughts flying all over the place. I try to slow it down, get a grasp of the situation, but all I can hear is the powerful beating of my racing heart and that rasping voice diluting my thoughts into echo. I close my eyes feeling a tingling sensation run through my fingers. I peer down at my right hand, gripping tightly to the edge of the stall wall; my nails have grown long and sharp, forming claws.

"Jack" another voice calls as Daniel runs into the bathroom a moment behind Colonel O'Neill. I feel my eyes turn to him, study him. I pause wondering why and in my pause I feel my calves tense up as though I am going to jump. Daniel is startled by the sight of us, Colonel O'Neill with his gun aimed at his 2nd and me perched above a stall, so dramatically changed that very little of me remains in my appearance.

"Get out of here Daniel..." Colonel O'Neill snaps "Call for backup." Daniel turns to him with a frown furrowing his brow.

"Jack?" Daniel breathes confusion

"GO!" He yells, never taking his eyes off of me. I feel myself jump again, this time forwards.

O'Neill fires.

He misses, not expecting my movements to be this quick. I look up at where the bullet shattered plaster from the wall, and then look down at where I've landed. I am kneeling, my standard issue air force boot planted before me on Daniels back.

He lies face down beneath me, my left arm is wrapped around his, pulling it behind his back; my right hand grips his throat, my sharp pointer marring the underside of his chin. I feel a scream bubbling up inside me, but my body betrays me, it conveys none of the emotion I feel.

I look to Colonel O'Neill, he's behind me now, gun pressed to the back of my head. My ears clear of the deafening beating and rasping rhythmic voice. Instead I hear shouting, Daniel shouting at Colonel O'Neill, Colonel O'Neill shouting at me and finally an alien voice, uttering harsh words in a language that would challenge even Daniel to translate.

I realise now they are my own.

With strength of will I didn't know I had, I struggle desperately against the entity inside me, trying to steal back control, trying to move, speak, anything. I feel my left arm tremble and convulse, I look down to see the deep blue receding from there; but then I feel my right hand tighten around Daniels throat, silencing him. Colonel O'Neill falls silent too; I feel the muzzle move from the back of my head and press into my right shoulder. And then to my amazement, I feel myself part my lips to speak.

"Sir" I gasp, not realising how much effort it is taking to speak against the pull of the creature inside me. The muzzle pulls back taking the contact away from my shirt, I feel my hand press deeply into the flesh of Daniels throat, a slow trickle of blood spills over my nails and Daniel lets out a hiss.

The smell fills my nostrils. Dark feral sounds fill my mind; I feel my tongue slip past my lips, moistening them with an instinctual lick. I close my eyes in a panic and the muzzle presses against my shoulder again.

"Sir, shoot it!" I feel the scream escape me, rattling out of my throat desperately "shoot me!"

Without hesitation, he fires.

I feel the explosion rip through my shoulder and force me to the floor. Pain radiates from my shoulder across my back; I feel my heart tight in my chest. I manage to roll and look up above me, gasping; Daniel is at his feet hand pressed to his neck, Colonel O'Neill stands over me, gun still aimed before him.

I push my chest forward as a sharp pulse surges through me, electric pulses of burning pain shoot through my spine, travelling my skeleton, forcing me into convulsion. I bite down hard on my lip, as my skull thrashes against the cement; closing my eyes to the pain. I feel a scream rumbling throughout my chest; it rips out of me as the agony overwhelms me. Violent painful convulsions surge through me for what seems like forever, I feel myself slipping. My mind drifts slowly as a dark force pulls at my consciousness.

And then slowly the light dims; it is just dark.

AN: It is short because I have been distracted and busy. I wrote this a while ago but had meant to have a few more scenes in this chapter; I'm posting because I don't want you all to think I've forgotten it. I will post more soon (fingers crossed)


	4. Chapter 4

My mind wakes before my body does. My eyes too heavy to open, my limbs too stiff, unresponsive. Muffled noises echo around me; beeping machines, footsteps, clinking metal, hissing sound of air. I feel oxygen being forced into my lungs, feel hard plastic pipe obstructing my airway. I smell blood and hospital grade alcohol thick and acrid with every breath being forced through me. I hear Janet, my friend, my colleague, ever the professional, barking orders. I can feel dull pressure pushing against my chest, my body moving with it. I feel cold wetness spilling over my shoulder-blade; though I feel no pain.

In the same moment that I realise that this is very out of the ordinary, I remember how I came to be here. I see a flash of an image before my closed eyes. Daniels throat, spilling blood, feel my voice screaming out, hear a deafening gunshot.

I try to open my eyes, try to call out. My eyes resist, my voice does not waver. My body defies my every will. I remain still, lifeless and powerless to the situation.

Suddenly I feel sharp pain in my shoulder. My mind races to thoughts of weakening anaesthetic.

"Oh my god…" I hear the whisper echo in the still, the theatre has gone quiet as those who had worked frantically to save me a few seconds ago are now suddenly frozen.

I feel cold metal slide out of my shoulder as the sharp pain intensifies, burning as though the blood there were slowly coming to boiling point. The room still silent, I hear only breaths, can smell sweat and fear. Then the burning quickly fades to itching and my eye lids flicker casting white fluorescent light into view.

"She's waking!" a nurse calls out and I hear Janet step back. My eyes force open, looking to her immediately. Her eyes are on the Anaesthetist. Before another second passes, I feel my arms rip through leather restraints, hear the tearing and then feel the cold floor beneath obviously bare feet. I am horrified at the sight of myself ripping the tubing from my throat and casting it down to the floor. As I stare down at the blood streaked instruments on the floor, I taste blood in my mouth, for the first time not feeling queasy at the taste. I look down over my attire; blood stained hospital gown, open at the shoulder, pink skin where a gunshot wound should be. I look around as the surgical crew scatter quickly and the base operating theatre fills with armed soldiers, weapons drawn and aimed steadily at my freshly healed, fragile form. I push my hands up before me, taking a step backwards. I have control over my body and see pale, pigmented familiar skin before me.

"Don't shot!" I call out instinctively. The soldiers do not waver, do not blink. The blast doors open and Colonel O'Neill steps inside, closely followed by Teal'c, carrying a Zat.

"Sir, it's me" I look to him "I think I have control". He stares at me, expressionless, looks to a soldier beside him and internally assesses the situation. Before he speaks I slowly raise my hands behind my head, turning my body away from them as I do. I swallow back the pounding fear as I do, and continue to turn until I am faced away from them, staring up into the observation room, watching the concerned faces of friends and the reflection of soldiers approaching with caution, seizing and restraining me.

-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-

As I lay across my cot, counting seconds, I listen to the soft sounds the two posted guards make absent-mindedly. I hear the scraping of their hands over their uniforms, raising an arm to scratch an itch, run their fingers through their hair, sniff, and wipe their nose. Sounds I used to think near impossible to hear. Now focussed on, seem so loud.

I am experimenting with my hands in a twisted sort of way when I hear the Colonel's footsteps approaching from the far end of the corridor. I dig a nail into my palm, sharply piercing the flesh, blood spills slowly from the shallow wound; I press the wound to my lips, drink in the blood with a lick and then watch the wound disappear into a perfect pink mark that fades into unblemished skin. I've done this several times already, each time compelled to by some deep curiosity. I am curious both from a scientific perspective, fascinated by the mechanics of the miraculous ability and compelled by an animalistic desire to feel the pain and then taste the blood. Curious as to why the flavour has changed, it tastes of something edible, not something I would yet crave, but yet almost palatable as something I would consume in great quantities if the hunger pushed me to.

This thought frightens me.

I hear the door open, but do not move, do not look. My eyes stay planted to the spot where my wound last was. Wondering why I am only now able to heal myself, after having had the unwavering head injury and bruises for so many hours.

The Colonel sits down on the cot across from mine in this tiny holding cell. I manage to raise my gaze, he looks solemn; his eyes weary and tired.

"Daniel working with Janet?" I speak, he frowns, saying nothing "studying my blood, comparing it with samples brought back from the planet?" I clarify. He barely nods, still unspoken. I look down again at my hands, silently willing my heart to slow. I can feel the furious beating, warmth spreading across my chest, tightness with it. I close my eyes to the overwhelming panic and let out a long, drawn out exhale. A weight pushes down on my back with the escaping air and I look back up to the Colonel, my eyes burning with the threatening tears.

"I don't remember killing the boy" I manage to choke out as I suck air back into my screaming lungs. He looks away from me, sighing heavily. He grumbles out a cough as he clears his throat and then looks back to me. His eyes are strong, fierce even, anger evident in his demeanour.

"But you knew." He states, coldly demanding the soldier out of me; pulling rank in his tone.

"Yes sir." I admit, softly, barely more than a whisper. He exhales sharply, uncomfortably frustrated.

"Carter!" he snaps out harshly "what were you thinking!" he yells "You put people's lives in danger. You could have killed Daniel!" I close my eyes to his booming voice, willing myself desperately not to cry, willing myself to be strong. He stands, throwing his hands forward as if to hit me as he approaches. I do not flinch. I instead look to his eyes, pleading with him to understand. How can I expect him to understand my actions, when I can't even begin to understand them?

"I wasn't" I manage, staring up at him, clenching my jaw, strengthening my resolve "Sir." I finish and he looks away, seeming to reluctantly accept the response. We fall silent and I turn my attention back to my palm, back to the glaring issue between us. How long would it be before I turn again? What kind of creature have I become? Whatever it is, it seems to be powerful. I don't feel it trying to take over like it had been before. I cannot help but wonder if it is sedate, weakened by the act of healing itself; and yet why now? Why not before? Did it not have the strength to heal itself before? How could it have become stronger when everything I felt before seemed like we were growing weaker. Everything I felt before, felt like a fight, a war being waged from within. And now I feel at ease, comfortable.

"It doesn't fight me anymore" I whisper to him, "I don't feel its presence, but I know it is still there."

"Is it hostile?" he demands questioningly.

I shake my head unknowingly "I have no insight into its mind." He frowns drawing in a breath. "I don't even know if it really is an entity." I look to him, hoping for some clue. He shakes his head at me.

"I heard its voice Carter" he speaks, "Daniel seems to think it was the language he was studying on the planet." He offers "he's looking into translating what you were saying."

I nod and look back to my hands trying to piece together the timeline of events. Wondering on its driving force. As if to read my mind, he clears his throat.

"Doc Frasier has a theory about your…uh… super healing" he offers a smile but it is short lived as he looks to his hands and clears his throat. "You lost a lot of blood." He states gesturing towards my shoulder. His lip barely quivers and I can see in his eyes that he is struggling to speak what he hopes I will work out for myself. I look to my shoulder and think back to the moments when I woke. I remember the burning in my shoulder but more importantly, I remember the smell of blood, thick in the air. I had been losing a lot, even on the operating table. As I make the connection I smile to myself at how obvious it is.

"They fed it" I speak, smiling as I look up at him and he nods.

"Frasier thinks the blood they gave you, gave it the energy it needed to heal." He clarifies and I nod understanding entirely now.

"Of course; I was sick, I hadn't been eating, it had no strength it was injured and was fighting to survive..."

"But…" he cuts me off, the word popping loudly, resonating through the room. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We have a dead body on our hands." His eyes burn into me and all the lightness of the conversation fades quickly, bringing back up the dark heavy weight it had always had.

"Whatever is inside of me has a predilection for killing." I speak what we have both been thinking from the beginning. I clear my throat looking up at him "It's sated now, but it will take over again. I had no control over it the first time." He shifts uncomfortably, he probably already knows what I am going to say next. I know he doesn't want to hear it.

"Sir, when it does…" I wait for his eyes to meet mine, a long moment passes before he looks to me and when he does he is unmoving.

"It won't come to that Carter."


End file.
